


Since You've Been Gone

by gravidure



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Childbirth, M/M, Mech Preg, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Reunion Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 16:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17369504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravidure/pseuds/gravidure
Summary: Perceptor learns that he's missed a lot since the mutiny.An AU in which Brainstorm has basically been pregnant for most of Lost Light.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just felt like the simpatico really needed some sweet preg content...
> 
> This takes place sometime around LL21, right after the sparkeater thing. Obviously continuity gets all screwy. 
> 
> The birth tag doesn't come in until chapter 2, and chapter 1 stands on its own, so you can skip it if you want.

When Perceptor wakes, his head swims with a thousand thoughts, most nagging at him to figure out where he is because he has no idea, but along with those concerns are the more pressing ones, such as why it feels like his frame has been ripped apart with a crowbar and smashed back together in an implosive blast. The last thing he remembers… well, his memory banks come back with nothing useful, just random snatches of sensory data, such as the feeling of damaged plating scraping together and acid pooling at the back of his throat. And a face, hazy yet bright like a sun, and Perceptor can’t quite figure out why that seems to be the most pertinent data that his corrupted memories can provide. 

He bolts upward, eager to find some answer to these questions, but before his swimming processor can even register his frame’s protest, he feels a hand pressing on his breastplate, pushing him back down onto the berth below, gently yet insistently. 

“Easy there,” a voice says, and Perceptor perks, his processor making a hazy yet excited connection between that voice and the sunny face in his dim memories. “You took quite a hit back there. And from the looks of you, you’d already been through the wringer before that.”

If not for the hand steadily holding him down, Perceptor certainly would have shot back up again. He settles instead for turning his head. He has to squirm a bit to catch a good line of sight of Brainstorm’s face. Rather than sitting normally, Brainstorm has one arm on the berth, resting his head on that arm while the other one is held firm against Perceptor’s chest. 

“Hey,” Perceptor says, lacking enough clarity on the situation to say anything else.

Brainstorm seems amused by that, if his optics are any indication. “Hey,” he parrots back. 

“What did I—” Perceptor pauses, reassessing his question. “What happened?”

Brainstorm squirms. “That’s a really broad question, Percy. Wanna get more specific?”

Perceptor’s not sure that he does. “I… I think I remember Getaway… selling us out… and letting us being experimented on?”

“Yeah, I think Scorponok might’ve gotten into my stash and found my sparkeater gun… whoops.” Brainstorm’s shrug is surely meant to appear casual, but his words seem tinged with guilt. 

“How did…” Perceptor feels a thousand questions surge up to clog his processor again. How did I get returned to normal? How did you get here? After a moment’s consideration, he decides all of them can wait. “Are you okay?”

Brainstorm’s optics cycle wide. “What?”

Perceptor nods to him, as best he can from the odd angle. “I’m sure you’ve been through a lot. I’m hazy on a lot of the details… in fact I feel like I might even have some conflicting memories, but I remember the distinct feeling that you had been in danger after leaving the ship. And you’re lying down there where I can hardly see you.”

Brainstorm laughs. “Well, part of that is if Doc Ratch catches me, he’s definitely going to throw me out. He ordered everyone to leave the recovering sparkeaters to rest.”

Perceptor smiles widely. “I’m glad you decided to disobey.”

Brainstorm’s head perks up at him. “Wow, Perceptor is glad that I broke the rules. That’s a first.”

Perceptor lets his smile widen, even though his face feels slightly sore, among all his other recovering injuries. “My memory may be a bit tangled, but I know for a fact that I missed you.”

Slowly, Brainstorm’s fingers begin moving, making thoughtful circles on the glass of Perceptor’s breastplate. “I missed you too…” 

With the hand closest to him, Perceptor reaches out to Brainstorm’s helm, stroking one side. “Let me see you. We’ll deal with Ratchet when the time comes.”

Brainstorm leans into the touch, and sighs, though Perceptor can’t quite pin an emotion to it.

“There’s one more reason I’m down here,” Brainstorm admits, his movements slowing as he looks away. 

Perceptor furrows his brow. “Are you alright?”

Brainstorm shutters his optics, but lets out a sound that nearly passes for a chuckle. “Close your eyes for sec.”

Perceptor blinks at him. “What?”

“Please?” Brainstorm asks, opening his eyes and shooting him a pleading look. “I’m okay, I promise, I just. Need time to explain.”

Perceptor shoots him a puzzled look, but without hesitation closes his eyes. “Alright.”

Brainstorm pulls away from him slowly. Perceptor almost misses the contact but it’s soon replaced as Brainstorm returns his weight to the edge of the berth. Perceptor feels a body brush against his own, unable to quite map out exactly what he’s feeling. Brainstorm leans over him, and Perceptor feels the sensations of lips pressed against his helm in a kiss. 

“Was that necessary for the demonstration?” Perceptor asks, smirking enough that he hopes it shows that he’s only teasing. 

“Couldn’t help myself,” Brainstorm replies. “Alright, before you open your optics, I just want to make it clear that I didn’t know. Not ‘til after the mutiny and after… well, if you don’t know all the details, we can catch you up on that bit later, but I just want to say that I would’ve preferred to tell you some other way.”

Perceptor frowns. He waves a hand around blindly, hoping to find some part of Brainstorm’s anatomy to touch comfortingly. Brainstorm clearly takes mercy on him and grabs his hand with his own. Perceptor gladly squeezes it. “I don’t know what to expect, but surely there’s no need to worry. I understand the circumstances we’ve been in have been unusual. As if they’ve ever been normal…”

He hears Brainstorm laugh softly, and takes solace in that at least. 

“Alright, you can open your eyes.”

Perceptor doesn’t waste a moment and opens his eyes. For a moment he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He just sees Brainstorm’s bare face hovering above him like a yellow sun, smiling nervously. Perceptor’s first impulse is to dart up and kiss those now-exposed lips, but he convinces himself to have patience. He instructs his eyes to scan downward, falling to where Brainstorm’s hand is resting on the convex dome of distended abdominal plates.

Perceptor resets his optics. 

The image before him remains the same. Brainstorm is clearly carrying. Most likely due to hit full term soon, if he hasn't already.

“Like I said,” Brainstorm mutters, not quite meeting his gaze. “I would’ve wanted to tell you a different way.”

Perceptor abandons all pretence and follows his first instinct. He sits up as quickly as his aching body will allow and pulls Brainstorm into a kiss, cradling his head in both hands. 

Brainstorm looks shell shocked when Perceptor pulls away. “So… you’re okay with…”

Perceptor moves his hands, hovering one over the gravid mound. “May I?” he asks. 

Brainstorm smiles. “Well, it’s yours after all, so feel free.”

The confirmation is enough to make his spark sing. Perceptor reaches out, reverently caressing the curves. It seems so surreal that even touch is hardly enough to cement in his processor that it’s real. He delves fingers between plating, and though it grants him no greater answers, Brainstorm squirms as his reward. 

Before he knows it they’re kissing again, Brainstorm grabbing the sides of his helm with a fervent need, which Perceptor returns all the same with his explorative touches. 

The spell breaks as Brainstorm’s fans kick into overdrive, and he slowly pulls away. “I should go,” he whispers, lips inches from Perceptor’s. 

Perceptor holds him tighter. “Don’t.”

Brainstorm chuckles softly. “This isn’t exactly private, Percy. It’s the medbay. If you thought Ratchet would be mad about me visiting, I think we’ll see a whole new level of livid if he finds us like this…”

Perceptor hardly listens, pulling him in with soft kisses. “Which place is closer? Mine or yours?”

The look of surprise and excitement on Brainstorm’s face is downright delicious on its own. “Are you sure you’re up to that?”

“I’ve missed enough,” Perceptor says, peppering kisses along Brainstorm’s jawline. “I don’t intend to waste more time.”

Before Brainstorm can formulate a more thought out argument, Perceptor nibbles at his neck cables, provoking a barely quashed moan. “You know, technically, the lab is closer.” Perceptor smirks, pulling away at that, and starts disconnecting his monitors. 

“Are you sure you should be doing that?”

“I do have basic medical training, you know,” Perceptor says. 

Brainstorm smirks, cupping a hand over his abdomen. “And you’re using it for evil. Naughty.” 

That distracts him enough that he almost disconnects his sensors too quickly, focusing more on that impish look on Brainstorm’s face and the way his hands plays over his belly. Perceptor bites his glossa, mulling over this new information about himself, but luckily successfully manages to unhook himself from the monitors without an alarm. Without wasting any more time he bolts off the medical berth and grabs Brainstorm by the wrist. 

“Let’s go,” he whispers, and he can’t hold back a smirk as Brainstorm wobbles slightly, before following after him. 

The escape is hardly stealthy, Brainstorm more waddling than walking. But Perceptor doesn’t need to have much (or any) experience with carrying mechs to know better than to comment on it. Still, he can’t help but wonder how exactly Brainstorm snuck into the medical bay in the first place. But, he is nothing if not resourceful. 

As they make it around a few corners in the hallway, Brainstorm starts to chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Luckily, he had been right; the lab wasn’t far. 

Brainstorm sighs as he stepped into the lab, leaning up against a table as Perceptor makes sure the door is securely locked.

“You have no idea how much I missed this place,” Brainstorm says, running his hands over the workbench. 

Perceptor comes up behind him, slotting himself between Brainstorm’s wings, and wrapping his arms around his expansive middle, letting each of his palms splay out wide over Brainstorm’s carrying frame. “Just the place?” Perceptor whispers into the back of his neck. 

Brainstorm shushes him, but nevertheless relaxes into his embrace, running his hands over Perceptor’s. “Hey, knock it off. Sultry tones like that are exactly what got me into this me into this mess in the first place.” 

Perceptor pays no attention, instead kissing the back of his neck, making Brainstorm shiver. “I’ve wanted you back so bad. I’ve wanted this so much.” 

Brainstorm hums in between a shiver. “I bet it didn’t go quite like this in your imagination,” he says, pressing his hands over Perceptor’s, into his round middle. 

“You’re right,” Perceptor whispers. “It’s much better than my imagination could have cobbled together.” He exvents over Brainstorm’s neck, just to tease him a little more. “Speaking of how you got into this mess, how about we recreate that incident? If I’m right, it was the one with you bent over the workbench?” 

Brainstorm barks out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? Do you think you can get me bent over much of anything right now?” 

Perceptor considers that with a deep hum that he directs into the crook of Brainstorm’s neck. “Then tell me how you want me.” 

Brainstorm gasps, and shudders again, resting more of his weight against Perceptor. “On your back might be easiest. Then I can just ride you.” 

Perceptor smirks. “Just?” He doesn’t let Brainstorm answer, pulling away and turning Brainstorm around. He leans in for a kiss, and it’s a bit awkward at first. When they had been sitting, it was easier to maneuver around the mound, but now Perceptor has to do a bit more negotiating to find the right angle to get past it. 

“See what I’m talking about here?” Brainstorm asks, wryly. 

“A good scientist should adaptable,” Perceptor chides him. He kneels down, and before laying down, he stops to admire the gorgeous bump before him, peppering it with kisses on the way. His fingers explore the new landscape, before venturing down to more familiar territory, tracing the seams of Brainstorm’s panels. 

Brainstorm moans. “This wasn’t the plan.” 

“Preparation is important for any good experiment,” Perceptor mutters over his modesty panel. The line is questionable at best, but deserved or not, Brainstorm’s panel clicks open, and Perceptor is rewarded with a valve just starting to go slick. He tests it with a few fingers around the lips, before dipping his head down. This, too, requires some new negotiation, as he’s not used to having a ceiling above him as he works this area, but soon he finds the right angle to run his glossa over Brainstorm’s anterior node. 

Brainstorm bucks at the sensation, and Perceptor settles him with one hand while the other is slipping into his valve. In no time, he has three fingers scissoring in Brainstorm’s valve while his tongue works over his anterior node, occasionally switching between that and his thumb. 

With another moan, Brainstorm pats his head. “Okay, okay. I need you in me right now, I can’t last like this.” 

Perceptor reluctantly stops, pulling away, and at Brainstorm’s gesture, he helps lower him down to the ground as well. Brainstorm playfully pushes back at him, and Perceptor gladly flops back. He doesn’t make it too easy though, and Brainstorm seems content to stare at him for a minute, seeing Perceptor lying prone, legs spread. He crawls forward, belly nearly touching the ground, and taps at Perceptor’s panel. 

“Alright, don’t keep me waiting.” 

Perceptor does as told, snapping his panel open and letting his spike pressurize. 

Brainstorm whistles. “You weren’t kidding about being turned on, huh?” 

“I hardly have to, with you here.” 

Brainstorm rolls his eyes, but doesn’t waste time, positioning himself over Perceptor. It’s a little touch and go at first, Brainstorm clearly not used to his own bulk either and having to compensate, but soon he seats himself on Perceptor’s spike. Perceptor groans at the sensation, hot and wet, and lets himself fall backwards as Brainstorm starts moving slowly. 

The sight of Brainstorm above him like this turns Perceptor on in a way that honestly shocks him a little. He knows he’s missed Brainstorm, of course. And he’s wanted this, wanted to see Brainstorm get sloppy and unravelled on his spike like all the times before. But the sight of all that — Brainstorm’s panting, tongue lolling as he chases his satisfaction — pales to the sight of seeing him swelled up. One hand clutches his belly low, in a poor attempt to steady the massive bulge, but it sways as he bounces on Perceptor’s spike. 

And Perceptor can’t get enough of it. 

He bucks, meeting Brainstorm halfway, jostling his frame, and Brainstorm moans at the sensation. Perceptor has to bite back his own moan as well. 

“You’re beautiful,” Perceptor says, and Brainstorm proves him right with a breathy laugh. 

Brainstorm’s hands play over his belly again. “Perce, we all know I have a praise kink, but there’s no need to protect my feelings here.” 

“I’m not lying,” Perceptor says, and bucks a little harder. “And I intend to prove it to you.” 

To his delight, Brainstorm smirks, and his eyes glow with a genuine warmth. “Alright. Show me what you’ve got.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth scene... As I said, chapter 1 stands alone if this isn't your thing... ;;

“Clicker, I think Brainstorm and I will have to go off comms for a bit. Will you be able to handle the coordination yourself?” 

“No problem, Perceptor, I think the hard part is over.” 

Cutting off the comm at that, Perceptor glances back over at Brainstorm, who looks positively petulant. “There was no need to do all of that. We can still help.” 

Perceptor checks his chronometer, not bothering to argue back, instead counting down the seconds. With ten seconds to spare in the interval, Brainstorm curls over on himself again, unable to contain a grunt as a contraction his him again. 

“Well, you don’t have the be so smug about it, at least,” Brainstorm mutters, his face pressed against the workbench. 

Perceptor grins nervously, moving closer to him. He tentatively runs his hands over Brainstorm’s sides, and when he doesn’t get batted away, he adds more pressure, softly massaging where the pain is at its peak. Brainstorm relaxes, letting out a more pleased moan against the table.

“They’re getting closer, you know,” Perceptor says. 

“It only barely started,” Brainstorm mutters. 

“I know.” 

“Ratchet even said that it would probably go so slow that he and the other medics would be back even if it started while they were gone.” 

Perceptor bites his lip. “Mhmm…” 

Brainstorm tenses under his hands, grabbing at the workbench and clenching as another contraction rips through him. It lasts longer than the previous ones as well, and Perceptor just tries to do his best to help him ride it out. 

“Ratchet was wrong, huh?” 

“Seems that way,” Perceptor says. 

Brainstorm lets out a frustrated whine and pushes himself up, standing — if a bit wobbly — and leaning against the workbench. Perceptor knows it’s not the time to admire, but he takes a moment to look over his frame, at the expansive curve, and tries not to smile. 

“So, what do we do?” Brainstorm says with a grimace. 

“Well, I don’t know…” 

Brainstorm glares at that. “Oh, what happened to that ‘partially medically trained’ thing?” 

“Sure, in basic field medicine,” Perceptor says. “A few procedures here and there.” He settles a hand on Brainstorm’s abdomen, rubbing gently. “This never came up during the war.” 

Before he can move his hand, another contraction starts up. Brainstorm covers his hand with his own, trapping it there, and he can feel the contracting cables just underneath his plating, as the force ripples through. He’s equally awed as he is concerned, watching Brainstorm’s face screw into a scowl. 

With a pained whimper, Brainstorm’s panel slides open, and with it a gush of fluids. 

Perceptor pales. “No denying it now, then.”

Brainstorm vents heavily, moving to grab the edges of the workbench. “Yeah, I think this happening now.”

“Let’s get you to the medbay…”

Brainstorm grabs him with one hand, and before he can say anything, his face clenches and he moans again. “No, I mean now,” he pants. 

“Oh.” Perceptor pauses, running a hand over his sides again. “Do you want me to help you down, at least?”

Brainstorm shakes his head. “No,” he says between heavy vents. “No, I think this is helping. Gravity and physics and whatnot.” 

Perceptor nods, considering him a moment, before kissing him. Brainstorm doesn’t respond much, far too gone and distracted, but when Perceptor pulls away there’s at least the hint of a smile on his face. 

At that, Perceptor kneels. Brainstorm slightly slides his legs apart from each other, leaning heavier on the workbench as he makes more room between his legs giving Perceptor a better view of his valve. It already looks wider, and when he bears down, Perceptor can see the suggestion of the sparkling’s helm. He grabs Brainstorm’s hand as he gives a gentle push, and Perceptor traces the outline where the helm meets valve. 

“I can see it,” Perceptor whispers. 

“Good for you,” Brainstorm grunts. “Because I can sure as slag feel it.”

Perceptor tries to give him a comforting pat, but Brainstorm looks like he might kick him. Perhaps luckily, before either of them can dwell on that, Brainstorm pushes again, and the smooth helm bulges out past the lip of his valve further this time, and before Perceptor can even say an encouraging remark, he tightens his grip and doubles down, pushing harder until the whole helm pops out. 

“Incredible,” Perceptor whispers, awestruck. “You’re doing amazing, you’re almost done.”

“Good, because if I wasn’t I might have to punch y—” Before he can finish that thought, his body contracts, and his bears down again with a massive push, starting with a grunt that edges towards a scream. Before Perceptor can fully grasp what’s happening, the protoform drops into his waiting hands, and he can only stare, stunned. 

“You… you did it…”

Brainstorm slides down, Perceptor barely having the presence of mind to help him settle gently down on the floor. He slowly hands over the sparkling, nearly afraid to break it. 

Newborn sparklings hardly look like much, not quite developed beyond just the basics of legs and arms and a head. The sentio metallico takes more than a day out of utero to fully take shape. Perceptor has never actually seen one this _new_ before, and while logically he knows there’s nothing objectively special about it, he can’t take his eyes away. The silver proto-flesh is already showing a suggestion of shapes, like nubs on the back that seem bent on becoming wings. 

One look at Brainstorm, and Perceptor can tell that he is equally enamored and awed, his venting still erratic. Perceptor wraps an arm around him, both of them, steadying him. 

Brainstorm looks over at him, as if he’d forgotten he was there. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Perceptor says, nuzzling his head up to Brainstorm. “I love you so much.”

Brainstorm relaxes into Perceptor’s embrace, tired and spent and _happy_. “I love you too. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”


End file.
